


Good old-fashioned lover boy

by itslidiablack



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale is a smug little bitch, Crowley is a dumbass, Fluff, Freddie is a Sweetheart, I hear a Queen song and I use it as a prompt, I'm still mad it wasn't in the show, M/M, Pining, ah shit here we go again, nothing new, the author is very sappy and very gay just like the fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-21 07:24:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21295730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itslidiablack/pseuds/itslidiablack
Summary: "I cannot believe him!" he repeated. "You go to fast for me Crowley." he said, in a poor impression of the angel's voice.Not that Freddie had ever had the chance to hear the angel talking, but still."I have waited six thousand years to even ask, six thousand years!"Freddie chuckled. "Seems like a good old-fashioned lover boy."(or Crowley is very dumb and very in love and Freddie is having too much fun)
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 98





	Good old-fashioned lover boy

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO HELLO HELLO MY LOVIESSS despite my lack of confidence here I am again!! So, will I ever stop writing GO fanfictions featuring Freddie Mercury? No, I don't think so oops  
English is not my first language so if you find mistakes, point them out and I'll correct them!!  
I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it ❤❤

They have just clinked their glasses and gulped down their champagne.

Crowley, trying for nonchalant and missing by a mile, has addressed his toast to humanity, those 7 billions of people that have risked to vanish into dust in the name of the Great War. 

Aziraphale, in his softest voice, has toasted to the world as well.

Something warm and pleasant coiled in Crowley's belly. 

The piano was still playing a soft jazz music. 

Crowley was getting bored. Jazz was.. interesting, but he was thinking about something more fitting for that particular evening.

With a snap of his fingers, the pianist switched to another song.

(Later, Richard Barry laid in his bed staring at the ceiling the whole night, wondering how he did managed to play a song he never played before, without missing a single note).

Aziraphale smiled, recognising the melody.

"Quite appropriate for tonight, don't you reckon, my dear?"

Crowley hummed non-committedly, suddenly very interested in his crème brulé.

"Truly a fortunate coincidence that the pianist has chosen this song, among all other things." Aziraphale mused. "Wasn't it written by your friend Freddie, my dear?"  
"Maybe." muttered Crowley.

Aziraphale smirked. He really looked too smug for an angel.

"Does that mean that you will take me back to yours?" 

Crowley groaned.

• 1976, somewhere in London, United Kingdom, Europe, Earth, Solar System •

"I cannot believe him, Frederick!"  
"It's not Frederick, darling." replied not-Frederick.

Crowley waved his hand. Apparently, it was the wrong hand because wine went everywhere, staining the carpet and almost ruining the silk of his shirt.

Key word, almost. The wine didn't dare.

Not-Frederick cursed. "Fuck, Mary will positevely kill me if she finds the stain."  
"I'll take care of it later." dismissed Crowley. "Now, where was I, Frederick?"  
Not-Frederick huffed in exasperation. "It's Freddie!" he protested half-heartedly, knowing it was a lost cause.

Crowley was in fact studying his worringly half empty bottle of red wine.  
He glared at its content, forcing it to refill itself to a more adequate quantity.

"The point is." declared Crowley, trying and failing to stand up.

Freddie looked unimpressed. 

Humans were so mean.

"More like, you'd expect a demon to be able to hold his liquor." interjected Freddie amused.  
Oh, he must have said that out loud. "I decided to get myself spectacularly drunk! It's a choice!" Crowley slurred. "Also, why aren't you joining me?"

Freddie sighed, helping the demon to finally stand up. "Believe me, darling, I wish, but if I show up late at the reharsals again, Brian will chop my dick off." he grumbled.  
"Chop chop" agreed Crowley sagely.

Freddie sat down at his piano, starting to play a gentle tune.

"So, my dear, would you care to tell me what's the matter? Is it about that angel of yours?"

Crowley muttered an agreement, slumping down on the floor.

"I cannot believe him!" he repeated. "You go to fast for me Crowley." he said, in a poor impression of the angel's voice. 

Not that Freddie had ever had the chance to hear the angel talking, but still.

"I have waited six thousand years to even ask, six thousand years!"  
Freddie chuckled. "Seems like a good old-fashioned lover boy."  
Crowley huffed. "It's not funny." 

Freddie, clearly, didn't think so, because he laughed some more before diverting his attention back to the piano.

The singer hummed along the melody, mumbling words while trying new chords.

"Maybe I should take him out for dinner.." muttered the demon to himself. "After all, we have always had dinner together and Aziraphale has never complained about it.."  
"Dining at the Ritz, we'll meet at nine.." sing-songed Freddie.  
Crowley grunted an agreement. "Yes, the Ritz seems appropriate enough and -wait a minute."

Freddie kept on composing his new song, scribbling notes and words.

The demon seemed to woke up from his state of intoxication and deep, painful pining.

He gazed up at his so called friend, who was still writing. And composing. And singing to himself about people dancing the tango.

Crowley approached him from behind, full of demonic rage. 

"How many times do I have to tell you to not to use my romantic life for your songs?!" 

Most people probably at this point would have had a stroke.  
Certainly, Crowley behaving for once like a true demon was a sight to behold.

But Freddie Mercury was not most people and he simply put his papers aside to give Crowley a very unimpressed look. "It would be more correct to speak of your lack of romantic life, darling." he deadpanned. "Also, you happen to like my songs, so don't be absurd."

Crowley crossed his arms. "It's still rude. What about my feelings?"

Freddie dismissed the protests with a wave of his hand. "Hush, darling, you're ruining the mood. Isnt't it better to create a wonderful piece of art rather than keep sulking? I'll even sign you the record."  
Crowley muttered something along the lines of traitor and not deserving a certain kitten.

Freddie promptly ignored him. He wrote down another couple of verses, then clapped enthusiastically. "It's almost done, tomorrow I'll show it to the boys." he smiled. "Remember me to make you listen to Somebody to love next time, darling. I have the feeling you will like it."

Crowley sighed dramatically and plopped down on Freddie's chair. "Like all of your songs, Frederick. Let's hear this one."

Freddie glared at him. "Not Frederick." replied firmly and, then, he started to play.

***

("I still have that record." mused Crowley later. They sat on Crowley's leather couch, holding hands and Crowley was decisevely not hyperventilating. "Freddie had it signed by the entire band."  
Aziraphale smiled. "I've always thought he was a nice young man."

Crowley snorted. Actually, at some point, Aziraphale had been jealous of Freddie, he had proofs of it, but the angel would never admit it.  
"So, let's go romancing?" he asked and immediately cringed at how it sounded.

Aziraphale, anyway, did not seem to mind. 

He grinned and replied softly. "Your wish is my command, my dear.")

**Author's Note:**

> and this is what happens when I'm in university, looking super focused and serious, while I'm actually writing sappy stuff and listening to Honey Honey by ABBA , yes.  
Know that comments and kudos are the Bentley to my Crowley ❤  
If you want to scream about Good Omens and stuff, you can find me on tumblr @purrvaire or on twitter @joeciambello ❤❤


End file.
